


Blindsided

by thismidnight



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismidnight/pseuds/thismidnight
Summary: June thinks Nick isn't home and asks him for help through his apartment door. Set mostly during the season one finale, with a little bit of post episode speculation on June's whereabouts.





	Blindsided

 

> _for the agony, i'd rather know_
> 
> _'cause blinded, i am blindsided_

 

He has no idea what he’s doing.

He’s had ideas rolling around in his head for weeks, months now. Things he could do to get her out. Things as simple and short-sighted as get her in the car and drive like hell for the border, and as complicated and confusing as trusting other people, cashing in as many favors as he could to get her somewhere safe. Nothing ever felt quite right, though, not safe enough. There were plenty of factors to worry about, but the one he’d never considered was time. He’d have time to wait for the right opportunity; he’d eventually find the right person to trust, the right string to pull, the right time to drive, and that would be it. They would go and she’d be safe and that’s what mattered.

But then that morning in the kitchen June had told him she was pregnant and suddenly the time he hadn’t even thought of before felt like it was slipping through his grasp faster than he could manage. Serena Joy had left with her and he’d gotten to work, even though he felt like he was drowning and there was no life jacket anywhere in sight. Any ideas he might have had before all seemed foolish and reckless now. Trusting someone? How could he trust anyone now? Or ever?

His day passed in a blur, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what he could do, what options he had. His first best option was just to get her away from the Waterfords, which he figured could be done easily enough. He’d turn Fred in for going to Jezebel’s, he’d report on Serena Joy for abusing June, and they’d come and take her away, at least until everything he’d reported could be corroborated or swept under the rug. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. He’d locked himself in his apartment with every intent to write down every detail he could stomach to remember about those nights at Jezebel’s, about what he had seen Serena Joy do to June, but before he knew it, it was dark outside and the pages in front of him were still empty.

He still has no idea what the hell he’s doing.

He’ll file these reports, they’ll take her away from the house and then what? June still won’t be out of danger, she won’t be someplace that they won’t take the baby away from her, where they can’t hurt her. He’s trying to stop a ship from sinking by bailing out the ocean water with a bucket. His mind is as blank as the pages that lay in front of him. Time. He thought he’d have time to figure this out. He drops his head into his hands. He needs more time. If there’s one thing he can’t rush and screw up, it’s this.

What about driving away? He lets his mind wander back to that time weeks ago when the idea first started taking root in his head, when he’d considered taking a left turn instead of the right one that led them back towards the house and the interrogation about Ofglen. It would have been stupid, then, with no planning or preparation, but maybe… maybe now he can make it work. It’d take a few weeks, sure, but one thing being an Eye afforded him was the ability to move around with virtually no questions asked. All he had to say was he was on an investigation and he was free to go. By himself he could easily get through checkpoints and figure out the best route to take, what roads weren’t in use anymore. He’d figure out a plan, map out their route, and one night he’d tell June to meet him in his apartment and they’d be gone. He’d hide her in the backseat, and they’d go. He’d get her to Canada or he’d die trying. It’s risky, but so is everything else, and this is the best he’s come up with so far.

He picks up his pen with every intention to start listing every bit of relevant information he currently knows. Locations of checkpoints, roads that lead out of town that he already knows aren’t patrolled, but when he brings it to the paper he can’t bring himself to start writing. This is the best he can come up with? There’s no room for error. Even with the best laid plans all it takes is one rogue patrol, one canine unit at a checkpoint when he’s not expecting it, and the whole thing crumbles instantly. If they get caught, if he gets caught running away with a handmaid, he’ll be executed and she’ll come back to the Waterfords with no hope for anything. She’ll have the baby and… he shakes his head in disgust, throws the pen down on the table, and swears under his breath. He can’t let his mind wander down that path or he might end up doing something extremely stupid, like going into the house and murdering Fred with his bare hands.

He gives himself two minutes to regroup and clear his head. Right now, he needs to focus on just getting her away from the Waterfords, so he’ll go back to square one, writing the reports that he knows will at least get her pulled out of the house. He’ll be able to think more clearly if knows she’s out of harm’s way and somewhere Fred can’t force himself on her and Serena Joy can’t hurt her, giving him one less thing to worry about. He picks the pen back up, takes a deep breath, and starts writing.

He’s two pages into detailing the first visit to Jezebel’s when a sharp series of knocks at the door startles him. He looks up, hoping to identify who’s at his door. Sometimes, if he’s busy, Rita will bring him a dinner plate but it’s later than when she usually comes. The knocks come again, more urgent this time, and he stands to open the door but then the doorknob rattles and he freezes. He knows it isn’t Rita now. Only one person has ever come in without knocking.

June.

He stand rooted in place and sucks in a breath. He wants nothing more than to go to the door and let her in, but he glances back at the report he’s started writing on the table. He hates lying to her, even by omission, but it’s truly better if she doesn’t know what he’s doing. The less she knows, the less there is to be held against her if something goes south. Maybe she’ll think he isn’t home. He finds himself hoping that’s what she thinks, and not that he’s trying to keep her out. He stands, still frozen, wanting nothing more than to unlock the door and be with her, but he knows he needs to hold his ground. He has to get this done, and as soon as he can. His chest feels hollow as he watches her shadow retreat from the door and down the stairs.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he turns and sits back down at the table. June’s brief appearance at his door had only served to make him that much more determined to get all he knows down on paper, even if it takes all night. He manages to scrawl a few more sentences when he glances up and notices a shadow pass in front of his window again. And then suddenly, June is banging on his door with her open hand, frantic and insistent.

“Nick!” June calls out before banging on the door again, harder this time. “Nick!”

He closes his eyes and holds his breath. Had she seen his shadow through the window before? He hears dogs start to bark in the distance. This is going to end horribly.

“Nick, I saw the car in the garage,” June says through the door, jiggling the knob again, her voice lower now than before. “I know you’re here.”

Shit.

He’d been so distracted earlier while he was topping off the antifreeze in the car he must have forgotten to close the garage door. He opens his eyes and looks at what’s in front of him. He hasn’t written that much. Surely he can crumple all this up, throw it away, and let her in. He’ll say he’d fallen asleep and didn’t hear her before. He can work on this tomorrow. He needs to get this done, but the last thing he wants is for June to think he’s hiding from her, or that he doesn’t want to be with her. Especially now.

He puts his pen down and he’s about to toss the reports when June continues speaking outside his door. “Or maybe you aren’t. Maybe one of your buddies in a black van came to get you, hmm? You don’t have to be scared of them, do you?”

Even though her voice is muffled, he can hear the anger dripping off every syllable. He doesn’t take it personally, he knows she doesn’t have many outlets here and he’s happy to be her sounding board when she needs. But if she really doesn’t think he’s here… maybe he’ll be better off doing this tonight, he can still hear the time ticking away loudly in his head. The doorknob jiggles more aggressively and then she bangs a few more times.

“God damn it, Nick!” June yells, her voice rising again. “You were supposed to be here!”

He swallows hard. Sitting here and not responding to her pleas might be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. He watches as her shadow grows larger against the blinds, she’s leaning her head against the door now.

“You were supposed to be here,” she repeats after a beat, and he can barely hear her now, her voice low, sounding like all the fight has drained out of her, which immediately sets him even more on edge. Luckily, he doesn’t have long to let himself dwell on that thought because June starts speaking again, and he has to focus all his attention on her voice to make sure he doesn’t miss anything through the damn door.

“Do you know where she took me today? When we left? She took me to see my daughter. She threatened her, and I need to protect her.”

Involuntarily, his hand curls into a fist. He knew she had a child, he’d heard Serena Joy brag to some of the other wives when June had first arrived at the house that her new handmaid had had a healthy baby before. It’d made his stomach turn at the time, but he’d never pried for any more details. He didn’t feel like it was his place to ask. But now he knows she has a daughter, and Serena Joy’s holding her well being over June’s head. He’d known from the start that Serena Joy was despicable, but this… this seemed low, even for her. He’d thought it was difficult earlier to restrain from going into the house and murdering Fred, but now the urge to go into the house and murder them both is almost impossible to push back down. It’s only June’s voice continuing through the door that stops his short fuse from blowing.

“I need your help, Nick. I… I need you. I don’t know what else to do. Please.” She’s pleading now, her voice so low he almost has trouble hearing her. “I don’t want to go back in the house.” Another long moment passes where he almost breaks, he almost forgets it all and lets her in, but then she speaks again, her voice determined and yet desperate all at the same time. “Please don’t make me go back in that house. Please.”

He stares hard at the door hoping she can somehow read his thoughts. I’m sorry this is happening to you. I want to let you in, more than anything. I’m working on something that’ll hopefully end this nightmare for you. I just need time. Give me time.

As he watches her shadow slowly move away from the door and disappear down the stairs suddenly the urge to be with her is too strong. He can’t let her go back in that house where she feels unsafe and unwanted. He’ll spend all day tomorrow locked in his apartment doing what he needs to do. As quickly as he can, he gathers everything off the table and picks up the nearest book, opening it and sliding the pages inside. He finds a place to stash it on his bookshelf before he closes the distance to the door in two long strides, unlocking the door and opening it.

“June?” He calls out, sticking his head out into the cold night air, looking down the stairs, but he’s too late. She’s already gone. He hesitates for a second, hoping that maybe he just missed her, that she heard his voice and she’ll come back, but when she doesn’t return he steps back inside and locks the door behind him.

* * *

She spends the whole drive trying not to think about where she’s going. But in the back of a windowless van, it’s almost impossible to stop her mind from wandering to dark places. Nick had asked her to trust him, and she did. But still, as she feels the van roll to a stop, she can’t stop the terror that runs through her veins. Whatever her destination, good or bad, she’s here.

She’s prepared herself for a lot of things when the doors of the van finally open. Aunts, Guardians with guns, an execution site. But when they open the only thing she hadn’t expected stands there.

“Nick?” She breathes out, unbelieving. They’d left him at the house. How did he…

He holds out his hand to her and she looks at him like he’s a ghost. She takes it and but doesn’t take her eyes off of him, afraid that if she blinks he’ll be gone. He helps her step down out of the van and his other hand comes to rest on her stomach, steadying her as she finds her balance on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “I made them take the long way so I could meet you here.”

She takes her eyes off him temporarily to look at their surroundings. She’s not exactly sure where they are, but there’s no one else around and he hasn’t taken his hand off her. Without a second thought she falls against him, bringing her arms up around his neck, letting one hand find its way up to tangle in his hair. She breathes him in as she feels his arms wrap around her, holding her tight against him. He presses a kiss against the side of her head.

“I couldn’t tell you before,” he says softly, “but I had to get you out.”

She closes her eyes and feels herself relax against him. There’s still so much unknown, so many questions she needs answered, but right now she finds it hard to feel anything but relief. She’s safe. He’d found a way to do it.


End file.
